A Genuine Fix

by J. C. Kenney

  Matt dumped two packets of sweetener into his coffee and stirred it before answering. “Nothing from the menu, thanks. I’d appreciate it if you’d answer a few more questions about the Alonso matter, though.”

  “I already told Officer Wilkerson everything I could remember, and the lunch rush will be here soon.”

  I looked around. The place was as empty as the Boulevard at midnight on a Tuesday.

  “We’ll be brief.” He took a drink. “We understand you made a phone call to someone regarding Mr. Alonso’s state of intoxication shortly before he left here the night he died. Who did you call?”

  Between the flared nostrils, narrowed eyes, and scrunched-up nose, the way Charissa looked from Matt to me, one would have thought she’d just bit into a fresh lemon. I wasn’t proud of schadenfreude-like thoughts directed at her, but I wasn’t going to lose any sleep over the issue, either.

  “Mayor Cannon.”

  “Why?” My question was out the instant I realized I’d asked it. Oh, well. Despite Matt’s comment to the contrary, I was willing to spend all day asking this woman questions.

  “This is insane, Chief. Do I—”

  Matt took a long drink of his coffee. “Please answer the question.”

  “Fine. I called the mayor as a favor to Georgie. I didn’t want him to get in trouble.”

  “Why did you call the mayor instead of the police?” Since Matt had let me ask one question, I was going to keep the questions going until he told me to stop. “Drunk driving’s a serious crime. Georgie could have hit and killed someone.” The last bit was an attempt to goad Charissa. If I made her mad, she might lose her focus and let something slip.

  “Don’t lecture me on the dangers of drunk driving. I work in a bar, for God’s sake. I called the mayor because he was practically Georgie’s father-in-law.”

  “Had Mayor Cannon asked you in the past to call him when Georgie was too drunk to drive, or did you call him unprompted?”

  “He and I were talking a little while after I started here. In case you don’t remember, I needed a new job after you got me fired at the winery. Anyway, he warned me about Georgie’s drinking problem. He said it would help Lori and Brittany if I’d let him know if Georgie ever needed help getting home. Is that so wrong?”

  Before I could respond with a venom-laced yes, Matt cleared his throat. I swallowed the retort and forced a smile.

  “We’re merely trying to make sure we have our time line and facts straight. I’m sure you can appreciate that. Now, you called Mayor Cannon. What did he tell you?”

  Charissa filled Matt’s coffee mug. “He told me to call the police station’s non-emergency number and request that someone pick Georgie up. I got Officer Abbott. He said he’d take care of it.”

  I also wanted to ask her in front of Matt how she got the mayor’s number. Thanks to my previous sleuthing efforts, I already knew the answer and wanted to make her squirm. Discretion won out, though. I was too close to an answer to get sidetracked.

  Two men dressed in similar golf attire, bright Dri-Fit shirts, black polyester pants, and white baseball caps eased onto barstools a few feet away. Charissa left us to take their orders.

  I leaned close to Matt to keep my voice low. “What do you think? Anything helpful?”

  “Depends on what you consider helpful. Everything she told us lines up with the statement she gave Jeanette. To me, that’s helpful.”

  Keeping my frustration in check, I closed my notebook. When Charissa returned, we thanked her for her time. Matt gave her his business card and asked her to call him if anything else came to mind.

  When we were back in the patrol car, he started the engine. “Sorry, Allie. It all fits.”

  “Sure, it fits. That doesn’t mean she isn’t hiding something.” An idea was niggling me at the base of my skull, like a mosquito bite in need of scratching that was just out of reach. “She may be hiding something and doesn’t even know it. Let me go through the conversation out loud. Maybe something will rise to the surface.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, he popped a regular piece of gum into his mouth. “Have at it.”

  I took Matt’s gum choice as a positive sign, so I checked my notes and began my monologue as he drove us out of the parking lot. To his credit, he kept quiet, commenting only when I asked him a question. I was so focused on the task at hand, I didn’t realize we’d returned to the park until Matt put the cruiser in park.

  “I need to check in with Jeanette and see if Sloane’s responded. Is there anything else?”

  A lump formed in my throat. Sure, Matt wanted to catch Georgie’s killer, but I got the sense of something more from our trip to Hoosiers. He knew I was doing all I could to help him, and he wanted to reciprocate.

  Thanks to the bad blood that had developed due to his divorce from Rachel, as recently as twelve months ago I wouldn’t have been caught dead in the same room with the man. Now look at us. We were working together to solve another murder. I didn’t know if I would ever be able to call Matt a friend, but I considered him a trusted ally.

  “Don’t think so.” I stared at my notes and let out a long, cleansing breath. I was still exhaling when my brain zeroed in on a single word. A dose of adrenaline sprinted through me as I considered the word. Could it really be that simple?

  Matt was halfway out of the car when I grabbed his arm. “Wait. Has anyone talked to the mayor?”

  “No. Why?”

  I pulled him back into the car.

  “He’s the missing piece to the puzzle.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “What do you mean he’s the missing piece to the puzzle?” Matt pulled his arm out of my grip. His eyes were narrowed, and his hands were balled into fists, reminders he was on duty and on edge. Even someone in my situation, working with a cop, should refrain from touching him or her while they’re on duty.

  “Hear me out.” I put my hands up to lower the emotional temperature.

  Matt needed to listen to my words and act on what I was about to tell him.

  “This case is all about timing. Who knew what and when they knew it. Let’s start with the easy stuff. Charissa just told us she called Larry, so he knew where Georgie was and when Georgie would be home.”

  “But he didn’t say he’d take care of it himself. He told Charissa to let the officer on duty handle it.”

  “Yes. I’ll get to that, but let’s go back to the morning I discovered Georgie’s body. Larry’s been working closely with the park planning committee. Because of that, he’s had access to the construction schedule.” I pounded my fist into my open palm. “He knew the mulch was scheduled to be delivered that morning, so he knew he could use it as a murder weapon.”

  Matt chewed on his lip. “A lot of people have access to the construction information.” He was playing devil’s advocate. Since I was accusing his boss of murder, I couldn’t blame him.

  I ticked off other points to support my new theory, ending with motive. “With Georgie gone, Lori gets the proceeds from the mystery life insurance policy. That’s a lot of cash to help your daughter and granddaughter start a new life.”

  “If you’re right, you’re asking me to drop the mother of all bombshells on this town. Besides, only yesterday, you wanted me to arrest Tommy.” He closed his eyes as he drummed his fingers on the dashboard.

  “I was wrong about Tommy. I was trying to force pieces into a puzzle that didn’t fit. It’s different this time. I know it. We need to go after Larry before he finds out we’re looking at him.”

  “It might explain why he’s been leaning on me so hard to make a collar.” He started the engine. “Without solid evidence, this stays under wraps. Where to?”

  “We can cover more ground if we split up. How about you go to the municipal building? If he’s not there, check with his secretary. Drop me off at my place. I want to get a few
things, then I’ll go to Larry’s house.”

  “Fine, but if you see him, do not engage. Contact me and I’ll take it from there. No unnecessary risk-taking. Got it?”

  “Acknowledged.” He didn’t want me to repeat my foolish actions the last time I’d spotted a killer. I couldn’t blame him for the safety first reminder.

  Matt called Jeanette to tell her he was returning to the office and would touch base with her later. He shook his head as we left the parking lot, as if to say he couldn’t believe the killer was the mayor.

  I was beside myself, as well. On one hand, I was angry with myself for being so wrong about Tommy. On the other hand, I was disappointed in myself for having missed the signs of Larry’s involvement.

  As I dashed up the stairs to my apartment, one question kept bothering me. How did Larry get from his house to Georgie’s house without being detected?

  The answer came to me as I unlocked my front door and glanced at my two-wheeler.

  His bike!

  First things first, though. I had a bad guy to catch.

  Twenty minutes later, I kissed Ursi, gave her some kitty treats, and asked her to wish me luck as I hoisted a backpack full of stakeout supplies over my shoulder. She responded by giving me a meow and rubbing her cheek against my shoe. It seemed to be her way of wishing me luck.

  Descending the stairs, I hoped I didn’t need it.

  I hopped on my bike, made sure my helmet was securely strapped in place, and pedaled to Larry’s house. I’d received no word from Matt since we parted ways, so evidently our suspect was still at large.

  On the ride, I reviewed my new theory that Larry was the killer and wanted to take me down while taking Georgie out. I had to give the man begrudging credit. It was a gambit born of meticulous planning.

  Especially since there was no evidence of his involvement.

  And therein was the beauty of it. Sick? Yes. Despicable? Absolutely. Horrific? Beyond doubt. It was also elegant in design and nearly flawless in execution. The nearly part was what I was banking on as I rolled to a stop in front of Larry’s house.

  The lights in the house were off. No surprise, given it was late afternoon and Larry and his wife were still at work. While I’d gotten to know the man, or thought I had, over the past few months, I didn’t know much about his wife, Anita, other than that she worked as a nurse at a hospital a half hour away in Columbus, Indiana.

  It didn’t seem prudent to hang out in the open where Larry could see me when he got home, so I parked my bike behind a neighbor’s hedgerow and got comfortable at the base of a nearby beech tree.

  Despite Matt’s instructions, I was prepared to confront the man if the situation warranted it. My goal was to approach him as soon as he arrived so he’d have no time to prepare for my accusation. By engaging him outside, I’d avoid the hazards that came with going up against a killer in a confined space. If things went south, I could run away.

  As the minutes ticked by, I went over and over what I was going to say. I had to convince him it was in his best interest to give himself up without a lot of fuss. To that end, I pulled up Matt’s number on my phone. That way I could show it to Larry to let him know I was serious.

  Would it work? I had no idea. That was why I took some zip strips out of my backpack and stuffed them into my pocket. If worse came to worst, I’d drop him with a kickboxing move and bind him with the zip strips.

  The question of whether I’d bind him too tight remained to be answered.

  I was reading a text from Matt saying the mayor hadn’t been located when a dented and rusty blue pickup pulled into Larry’s driveway. I responded that I had him in sight, then got to my feet and double-timed it up the driveway.

  He did a double take as he got out of his truck. “Allie. This is a surprise. What brings you by?”

  “Stopped by to chat. What have you been up to?” Between the orange cap and camo clothing, I knew exactly what he’d been doing. While I wasn’t among them, lots of folks in southern Indiana hunted. Deer, wild turkey, and small furbearers were plentiful and among the most common game animals found in the Hoosier State.

  “Been out in the field.” He reached into his truck and pulled out a rifle. “Squirrel hunting with my buddy Jax Michaels.”

  Jax Michaels. If I was right that Larry had been playing me for months, the fact that he’d spent the day with someone who despised me probably wasn’t helpful.

  He held the rifle in one hand and waved it in my general direction before pointing it straight at my chest. The message was clear, but I held my ground. The intimidation tactic was, for all intents and purposes, an admission of guilt.

  “Squirrels are so small, you can’t hunt them with a more powerful rifle like a shotgun or a thirty-aught-six.” He laughed. “It’s still plenty dangerous, though. If you’re not careful around it, you could get hurt. A bullet placed in the proper location can be lethal.”

  “Oh, I know. Luke has a rifle like that. He took me to the firing range a couple times when I was younger.” I leaned against the truck. To further the illusion of confidence, I yawned and peeked in the truck’s bed. A gray canvas tarp covered most of it, but something metallic caught my attention. Without giving Larry another look, I pulled back the tarp.

  “Well, lookie here. What’s this?” A shiny bolt cutter lay among a few other tools.

  “I have a lot of tools in there. I was raised to work with my hands.”

  “Maybe I’m just a little city girl, but what could you possibly use a set of bolt cutters for when you’re out squirrel hunting?” I took a half-step toward him, ready to spring into action, the zip strips safely stashed in my pocket.

  “You think you’re so smart. You don’t know anything.” He bit his lip as his eyes darted back and forth.

  The odor of cheap alcohol was on his breath. If he was drunk, things could get out of hand in the blink of an eye. Or in the squeeze of a trigger. I’d have to be more careful than I’d ever been in my life, while still goading him into making a mistake.

  “Oh, I don’t know. I know bolt cutters have a lot of uses. I’ll admit I don’t know why you’d need bolt cutters for squirrel hunting. But I know it’s the perfect tool to cut locks off the doors of a bunch of storage barns around town and to cut the lock off the gate at Parke Landscaping.”

  “I’ve had enough of your meddling. You’re worse than those annoying kids from Scooby-Doo.”

  The world slowed as Larry pulled the trigger. A puff of smoke rose from the rifle as the bullet rocketed toward me. My kickboxing instincts took control, and I leaned to my right.

  Searing pain knifed through a spot just below my left shoulder blade as the bullet made contact. The force knocked my breath from me, and I stumbled backward until I hit the corner of the house. Another shock of pain charged up and down my spine as I crumpled to the ground.

  While I blinked back tears and fought for breath, the truck door slammed shut. My vision cleared as the engine rumbled to life and peeled back down the driveway. I struggled to my feet as the squeal of tires was followed by the crunch of metal against metal. Despite the pain in my chest, I smiled as Larry struggled to separate his truck from a neighbor’s SUV he’d plowed into.

  My hand went to the bullet wound. There was blood and some intense pain, but I’d live. I made it to my bike, grabbing the handle bars as Larry’s truck finally broke free from the other vehicle and headed down the street.

  I’d watched a few broadcasts of the Tour de France over the years. Those athletes were tough. I mounted the bike and began the chase. I was every bit as tough those pro bike racers and was going to prove it by catching Larry.

  And bringing him to justice.

  The bullet wound burned like a blast furnace, but I gritted my teeth and took up the chase. A check of my bike computer showed I was riding at more than twenty miles per hour. That was a good speed for a ca
r in downtown Rushing Creek. My efforts at channeling the pain into pedal power were working. For now, at least.

  Lacking the ability to call Matt, I focused on the blue tailgate ahead of me. Larry was the matador. I was the bull. This time the bull was going to be victorious.

  As we neared the Boulevard, the truck’s red brake lights flared to life. I kept pedaling, closing the distance to within ten feet before Larry hit the gas. His tires spit pebbles at me as he leapt into the intersection and turned left.

  A left turn meant he was heading south, for the state highway that ran through the southern portion of Rushing Creek. Somehow, I had to stop him before he reached the highway. Once there, his getaway would be easy, and more importantly, he’d have time to manufacture a story about why I was chasing him. And why he had to flee my pursuit.

  I barreled through the intersection without giving a second thought to tapping my brakes. Midway through my turn, a car’s horn blasted as if it was inches from my right ear. Long-dormant bike-handling skills from my daredevil college days returned in the nick of time, and I kept the rubber on the road and the pedals cranking.

  A combination of motorized traffic and pedestrians crossing the Boulevard helped me stay close. Larry couldn’t weave through the obstacles, but I could. The all-out effort was causing my thighs to burn, though. Before long, my lungs would join the protest.

  I was running out of time.

  What I needed was enough of a distraction to cause him to lose control and spin out. I almost had my chance as we motored past the Rushing Creek Inn. Larry was forced to slow enough that I pulled even with him and managed to pound on the driver’s side door.

  My maneuver got his attention, and the truck veered away from me and sped ahead. The gap between us grew, but Larry overcorrected, and the truck veered sharply to the left, like a pinball bouncing off a bumper.

  The Rushing Creek Bridge came into view. As Larry fought to regain control of the truck, I ignored the agonized protests from my body and stayed with him. If he crossed the bridge, he was out of options. The span led directly to the entrance of Green Hills State Park. He’d have no choice then and would have to stop at the park gate.